The Truth Is
by WonderousPlaceForAnEcho
Summary: Set in season 6, after winter premier. Drunk Spencer's thoughts as they sit in the Radley Hotel. 1 shot.


Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I've read very little PLL fanficton. The show is absurd enough. Indulging in the fanfics seemed like a tall order but after a convo with Kay Destined for Greatness & I half jokingly said did you write that 1 shot we talked about and she said no, I don't even remember what its suppose to be about & apologizing with an exclamation point her brain doesn't function without coffee anymore & then I said nevermind I'll write it followed by her laughing (like a smart alec) & saying so that happened.

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"You all have excellent faces." She smiled through her own absurdity and she smiled rather than grimaced because she was being honest for the first time in twenty-four hours. And so what she was a little biased and a little bit beyond buzzed as was her intention. It was a fine line as she knew most things were in her life. The thing about intentions is they don't matter. In a Machiavellian way its the end result all anyone sees and truly cares about. Only artists care about the process. Luckily she was a goofy drunk and since she didn't need to keep up with appearances or be intimidating she gently nodded for her glass to be refilled.

She looked at her friends further as she sat comfortably because these girls turned and seemingly transformed into women almost overnight allowed her to be comfortable and from their entwined past. They had been through hell and back together to the point she felt The Inferno could be called a fairytale. _Dante had nothing on them!_ Later she would mumble that on the couch before stiffly falling into a preferred dreamless sleep. At the moment she was thankful alcohol masked anger. It was with a contended sigh she looked at them. A group of pretty girls who lied constantly to the extent it was second nature. _Except the smallest of our group..._

 _Ironically the littlest one is the most honest in this tired arena_ she considered as she finished her wine and thought _down the rabbit hole I go..._

Alcohol was a convenient tool to mask anger. She should have known actions or even passiveness had ramifications. Some part of her knew their talks of travels were speaking more of their intense need and desperate desire to escape their small town and absorb the world. It would be simplistic to call it wanderlust. Of course it went deeper and some cynical part of her thought or more so felt they would always be running...emotionally, mentally...or both unless they stopped lying. Mostly what she needed to do was stop lying to herself. Unfortunately she was self aware to know Mona was right. She still had nightmares. Regardless of the therapy which was a sad joke like an Adam Sandler or Jim Carey movie. Therapy also required transparency which was not her forte.

It was easier to graze emotions and watch certain genres that had characters to relate to from a safe distance. She could never watch _Kiss The Girls_ again. Though she thought Natalie Portman's character was wrong in saying-lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking off her clothes, but its better if you do.

 _Lies have an aftertaste. If I had Aria's writing abilities maybe I'd be able to say exactly what...or get close._

It was redundant but she repeated "You have excellent faces. Really." Because it was true but she also didn't want them to catch onto her slight emotional plummet. Or not so slight but she didn't want to admit that yet. Because then she would have to commit to the truth that giving into Ali would never be a "one last time act". It was linked to lying-lying out of self preservation or desperation or practiced ease to the point that they become you, alter you, harm you and break you until you're uncertain of your core and wonder at what level of forced conformity and unnatural bending that the body and spirit doesn't self repair. Plus Spencer had lied when naked and it was so casual that it was then disturbingly easier to lie, even intricately crafted lies while in expensive clothes.

There was the unsaid issue of not having a backbone and did it make her a coward? Was she so accustomed to being a pawn in Ali's game that she easily slipped back into the role? With a final laid back appraisal she assessed her confidants and questioned _will they would ever fully and completely stop being reduced to pawns. Because I don't trust Ali as far as I could throw her and if there was any ambiguity before its safe to say Aria feels the same. Emily is the loyalist but could also be the wild card and why the hell can't I stop with the damn game references?_ She cracked her knuckles. Her only tell of tension and Emily looked over with narrowed, knowing eyes.

But she was too tired of fighting. God she felt it. As she set the glass on the table she thought _being Ali's friend is a tall order._ It aged them, irrevocably changed them, and it was exhausting. It showed in the smallest ways that five years couldn't fade completely. Hanna's fierce eyes were weary right under the surface, Aria's stiff back as she sat rigid, and Emily's dark circles that were mostly hidden beneath makeup that couldn't sustain the late hour. _Though pretty they were not unmarred, they hadn't escaped without scars._ With a tilt to her head she considered this but refused to romanticize their past. And she hoped her mental note wouldn't slip into oblivion to apologize to Aria. To actually say the sentiment because Aria was a writer and valued words, held them dear with reverence. Completely opposite from her own clinical of language in her daily use and work. She gazed at her friends longer and noted they each had their own language and approach. Hanna wasn't the type to look before she leaped, Aria was seemingly hesitant but bold with her overthinking sensitivity and Emily was hopeful regardless but not in spite of their choices and reactions to their chaotic, insane, monstrous teen years. But for a split second she thought of Jung's quote "I am not what happened to me-I am what I choose to become" that applied to all of them.

Before descending into unconsciousness she prepared her nightly routine and composed her mental To Do List. For once it was surprisingly short. Lately she had been trying to simplify her life. Apologize to Aria. And tell each of them they're resilient.

She almost rolled her eyes at the notion but they were stronger than they looked and deserved to be told so without any hidden motives. At the very least she thought supporting them in the smallest way, in a hand hold to signify they were connected, with words, with embraces and anything she had in her she would try to be more honest.

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Author's Note: Kay Destined for Greatness & I discussed after the winter premier how drunk Spencer is amazing. As is casual clothes wearing Spencer. And she was suppose to write this! Also the issue of having a BA degree in cinema and a minor in psych (equivalent to an associate's degree which is absurd to think about) is for a half hour I couldn't think of Carl Jung's name. Rather than Google 'male therapist that had a falling out with Freud' I IMDB searched a movie that was about Jungian practice to figure it out! Ok. 1 reason why I wrote this was to write how resilient these absurd characters are. Thanks for reading. If you want to look at random thoughts and occasionally snarkiness my twitter is at placeforanecho.


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